


Noboy notices your brand new sweater

by vinterdrog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-13
Updated: 2011-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinterdrog/pseuds/vinterdrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Al has a crush. Sort of a sequel to one of my drabbles, <a href="http://vinterdrog.livejournal.com/11678.html#cutid5"><i>5. Somewhere over the rainbow</i></a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noboy notices your brand new sweater

"Hi."

Albus looked up from his notes and saw Rose standing on the other side of the table.

"Hi", he replied, warily.

"Can I sit down?" she asked. He stared at her. She never asked for permission, she usually just sat down. He waited for her to sit, but she stood, waiting for his reply.

"Sure", he said, at last, moving a few books a bit. He expected her to pick up her books, but she did no such thing, she just sat down. He went back to his notes and tried to concentrate, but failed miserably. He threw down his quill.

"What do you want?" he asked. Rose looked perfectly surprised and innocent.

"What? Must I want something? Can't I just sit here and enjoy the company of my cousin?" Al leaned back in his chair.

"Since that would be a first - no. Come on Rose, spit it out, I have a Transfigurations essay I haven't started on yet."

"You're hurting my feelings."

"Yeah, I try."

"Okay, so this is about your clothes."

Al sat up straight.

"My clothes? What about them? Has Lily dyed my shirts red again?"

"Why, you look good in red."

"It's _red_." The wrinkling of Al's nose described perfectly clear how he felt about the color red.

"Well, if Lily has dyed your shirts again, I know nothing about it. I wanna talk about your sweaters."

Al glanced down at the sweater he was wearing and then up again.

"Yes, that is one of them", Rose confimed. "What are they? How did you even get hold of them? Seriously Al, they're hideous. And not in a Dobby's socks kinda charming way, they're outright hideous."

"But Luna said..." Al interrupted himself, but Rose had heard enough. The most exasperated sigh she could upbring was not exasperated enough to express how exasperated she was.

"Seriously Al. You're sixteen and you're still taking fashion tips from Luna? What are you thinking?" Al mumbled his reply down at his notes.

"Sorry, what?" Rose asked. Al blushed.

"Never mind. Why do you care, anyway? It's not like you've ever cared about what I'm wearing before. You hardly even care about what _you_ 're wearing!"

"Can't a girl develop a sudden interest in clothes?"

"A girl, yes, but you, no."

"Are you saying I'm not a girl?" Al shrugged.

"You're the smart one, do the interpretation." Rose glared at him.

"You're avoiding the question", she said at last. "Why did you take fashion advice from Luna?" Al sighed.

"She said that if you like someone, you want them to notice you. And that clothes was a good way to do that. And then she recommended this, but I think it's because she actually think they look good."

"So you don't?"

"God, no. But I'm getting kind of desperate."

"Who are you interested in, then?" Rose asked, with a newfound curiosity. If she was going to keep her promise to Scorpius, she really needed to find out.

"It's none of your business", Al said firmly.

"You're my cousin, everything you do is my business."

"I was at the toilet two hours ago, you wanna know the shape and color of my poop?"

"You are disgusting."

"And you are too sneaky! Mind your own business."

"But I can't give you relationship advice - real advice, mind you - if you don't tell me who you're interested in!"

"Maybe I don't want your advice."

"Of course you want my advice, I'm brilliant."

"Yeah... but I still don't want your advice. I can handle this."

"I can see that."

"Rose, just quit. I'm not telling you."

"I will find out you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"Sooner or later."

"Seriously Rose, knock it off."

"Okay, okay." Rose actually got quiet, and Al went back to his notes. In the corner of his eyes he saw Rose fiddling with her wand. He threw down his quill, again.

"Fine", he said, a bit too loudly, and got hushed by the Hufflepuffs at the next table. He lowered his voice to a hiss. "You really wanna know? It's Scorpius. I am madly in love with Scorpius Malfoy, but he doesn't see me for anything else than a friend, and my father would kill me and James would mock me to the end of eternity - as would you, by the way - and I really, really _like_ being his friend so _forgive me_ for wanting to be subtle about this fucking stupid crush of mine." He slumped back in his seat and dragged a hand over his face. Ink smeared across his temple. Rose just stared at him. Al glared at him in annoyance. "Oh, so _now_ you can be silent? Go away, Rose. Let me drown in misery."

"Al, I-"

"Seriously. I mean it. Go. Away. I have to finish this essay and I really _really_ don't want to listen to anything you have to say about my pathetic human being. Go."

Rose heard the sincerity, the tiredness, the anxiousness and the desperation in Al's voice and her heart sort of ached for him, for him to be feeling all of this when he didn't need to, but for once, she did as he said.

"I'll see you at dinner", she said tentatively. Albus just waved his hand dismissively.

* * *

On her way to the common room, Rose passed a couple of first years, still in their uniform. She suddenly stopped, mid-step.

"I am truly a freaking genious", she muttered to herself, then turned on the spot and hurried the other way. The paintings on the wall stared curiously after her.

* * *

Al was already at dinner when Rose and Scorpius entered the Great Hall. He had just chewed of a mouthful and nearly choked on his chicken when his two best friend entered. Rose he didn't care about, but _Scorpius_...

Scorpius was wearing one of Al's ugly sweaters.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a translation of the swedish summer plague "Ingen vill veta var du köpt din tröja". An english version exist, but is not official, but has this title. Also, this was written as a birthday present for my lovely friend [](http://emymon.livejournal.com/profile)[**emymon**](http://emymon.livejournal.com/). Happy very belated b-day, hun!


End file.
